Not What I Want, But What I Need
by crematosis
Summary: Tony is sick on his birthday and the whole team comes together to fuss over him. He's not entirely thrilled about it.


A/N: This is another Avengerkink prompt. I've sure been writing a lot of those lately XD So much fun.

Disclaimer: I wish I was in charge of when people got sick in the movies. All this cuddlefluff would be fantastic to see.

Tony woke early on the morning of his forty-third birthday coughing and wheezing.

Steve, who had been in the process of getting dressed to go for his early morning run, settled back on the edge of the bed. "Tony?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. It's just a cold."

Steve looked at him skeptically. "Maybe I should stay home with you in case you need anything."

"Hell no. You go on your run. I'm just gonna go back to sleep." Tony rolled over and pulled the blankets up around his head, hoping that was the end of it.

He was just about to drift back to sleep when Steve peeled the blankets back and held out a small cup of water and two pills.

Tony groaned.

"You'll feel a lot better if you take some meds," Steve said.

"You'll feel a lot better you mean," Tony grumbled, but he swallowed the pills and the water. "Happy now?"

Steve kissed his forehead. "I'll be back in half an hour. Try to get some rest."

Rest, sure. That was what he was trying to do before he was so rudely interrupted. Tony burrowed under the blankets and fell back into an uneasy sleep.

When he woke up again, the rest of the Avengers were standing around his bed.

"Oh, look, my fan club has arrived."

"We heard you weren't feeling good," Clint said.

Tony glared at Steve. Traitor.

"We're concerned about your health," Natasha said smoothly.

"Funny," Tony said. "I don't remember you being this concerned when I was actively dying. I'm pretty sure you told me you'd spend your last birthday partying and doing whatever the hell you'd want. No mentions of hospitals or doctors or taking it easy, then."

Steve and Natasha exchanged a glance. Steve's eyes darkened and Natasha looked vaguely uncomfortable.

Ha.

"Guess she failed to mention that," Tony said.

He should have kept his mouth shut because Steve's steely glare was focused on him now.

"Damn it, Tony," he said. "Why don't you take better care of yourself?"

"That wasn't my fault," Tony protested. "The shrapnel in my chest would have killed me."

Steve shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Tony," he said. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Nope," Tony said. "I don't get why all of you are crowding around me like I'm on my death bed. I have places to go, people to see, parties to crash, and unless you're planning on following me around all day-"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Bruce said. "You should take it easy today."

"Hell no. I am not spending my birthday in bed. That's a sacrilege."

"We're not trying to-" Steve began.

"Look, I know you don't get sick anymore, but you remember what it was like, right?"

Steve sighed. "Yes, Tony. I was sick a lot as a child. I had asthma."

"So did I," Tony said. "I spent way too many birthdays in a goddamn hospital bed and I'm not about to be bedridden for a stupid cold."

"Tony," Steve said, quietly. "You never told me about those times."

Tony shrugged. "I didn't think you'd want to know. They're gross stories. I mean, who really wants to hear about the time I caught double pneumonia and they had to suction fluid out of my lungs?"

The room fell silent. Tony snorted. Just as he thought, everyone was disgusted now.

"Tony," Steve said finally, sounding horrified. "You were that sick?"

"Yep," Tony said. "I was probably fifteen and I thought I was going to die since Mom kept crying over me. That was definitely a shitty birthday." He cocked his head to one side and stared at the range of horrified and shocked faces. "What?" he said. "It was pneumonia, of course it was bad. And this is just a cold, so obviously-"

"Tony," Steve said. "You could have died. I don't understand why you can be so flippant about this."

"It's how he is," Natasha said. "When he stubs his toe or gets a tiny paper cut, he whines like a bitch."

"Hey," Tony protested. "I do not-"

"But he insists he's fine when he has broken bones and is bleeding all over the back of the jet."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to lie here and let you all talk smack about me. And on my birthday, too. What the hell, guys? Did you even get me any presents or should I content with your fantastic criticism of my life choices?"

Steve stroked his forehead. "We got you presents. I'll take you out into the living room so you can open them."

"Don't you dare," Tony said. "Steven Grant Rogers, if you even think about carrying me, I'm divorcing you."

"But we're not married."

"Yeah, well, I'll marry you just so I can divorce you."

Over Tony's continued protests, Steve scooped him up in his arms bridal-style and carried him down the hallway into the living room, where he was gently deposited on the couch.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Steve. "You are the worst, you know that? The absolute worst. I just have a cold. I'm perfectly capable of walking."

"Of course you are," Steve said. "But I know how stubborn you can be. You'll insist you're still capable of doing everything and you'll wear yourself out."

"Wear myself out?" Tony said indignantly. "I'm Tony Motherfucking Stark. I can go three days without sleep. I could probably march myself down to the lab right now and-"

"End up with another case of pneumonia," Bruce said. "You need to stay out of the lab for the day."

"Jesus Christ," Tony said. "This birthday just keeps getting worse. I suppose I'm not allowed to have booze either."

"That's right," Natasha said. She slid two of the kitchen knives together menacingly. "Now, who wants cake?"

The cake was good, at least. Red velvet from the bakery up the street that Tony loved. And he didn't even have to get up from the couch to grab a slice because Steve was still in full mother-hen mode.

Tony gestured with a fork. "Is there a reason you didn't put candles on the cake? You all forget how old I am?"

Clint shrugged. "We thought you'd hate that sort of thing. You didn't seem in the mood for the candles and the singing."

Bruce glared. "Did you have to bring that up?"

"Oh hell no," Tony said, mostly because he was amused by Bruce's discomfort. "What kind of a birthday is it without music? Come on, let's hear it."

"Just name the tune and I shall fetch the disk from your collection," Thor said.

Tony grinned wickedly. "Oh, no. You all are going to sing to me. It's tradition." He reached for his tablet and brought up the lyrics for the happy birthday song. "Here you go, big guy. Follow along with everyone else."

It turned out that not a single one of them could sing. Clint was pretty much tone deaf and Bruce was just a little bit off-key. Natasha might have sounded alright except for the fact that she was practically whispering and Tony could barely hear her. Probably on purpose. Steve, bless his heart, was loud and enthusiastic, and his voice was almost not completely terrible. But then Thor's booming voice cut in, drowning out everything else.

The song completely fell apart on the third line. Natasha and Clint had decided to go with Stark, while Bruce and Steve went with Tony. And Thor, still reading from the tablet had bellowed out "Happy birthday, dear Name!"

Everyone descended into a fit of laughter. Clint laughed so hard he toppled off his perch on the couch's armrest, which only set everyone else laughing harder.

Tony was crying with laughter. Literally crying.

He dabbed at his eyes. "Jarvis, did you record that? Please tell me you recorded that."

"I did indeed, sir," Jarvis said.

"Fuck," Clint gasped, staggering up from the floor.

God, he loved his A.I.

After everyone got back under control, Steve wandered into the kitchen to start cleaning up and bringing everyone hot drinks while they watched Tony open presents. Tony found himself with a cup of hot cocoa instead of the hot buttered rum he asked for, but he wasn't too upset about that. Steve's hot cocoa was the shit.

Steve leaned against Tony's side and sipped his hot cider. "How's the birthday so far?"

Tony glanced over at Clint draped on the back of the couch, carefully setting a bow atop Thor's hair. He grinned. "Not as bad as I thought."


End file.
